


Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel, sweet as love

by Persephonesheart



Series: Malec random one-shots [5]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Dark Alec Lightwood, Dark Magnus Bane, Dom/sub Undertones, Edom (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Edom Angst (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Exhibitionism, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Alec Lightwood, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Magnus Bane, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 12:48:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephonesheart/pseuds/Persephonesheart
Summary: Magnus Bane took his rightful place as King of Edom after his father took things a step too far. Now he has Alexander with him and refuses to allow anyone to seperate them - even family.





	Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel, sweet as love

The day Magnus Bane came to collect his inherence from his father, the land of Edom shook and the ground began to crack open from a surge of power. The door of the hall crashed open in a cacophony of strength and the cat eyed warlock strode through, cocky walk and wide grin on full display. Asmodeus never got a chance to speak before Magnus pushed his magic through the air and torn him limb by limb, blood and bits of body splattering onto the walls and the blood crazed demons around the area.

The few demons that dared to come forward and attack him suffered harsher fates, their bones cracking and breaking one at a time, the individual cells of their body being pulled apart inch by inch, their deformed bodies being moulded into something more grotesque and painful. They would live, but they would wish for death.

He moved along the hall with determination in his eyes, ignoring all the moans and wails of the demons who had worshipped his father for the protection he gave them, and sat down on his throne, back straight and head held high. Black thorny vines trailed up his arm, round his neck before moving upwards and nestling into his hair, forming a sharp and poisonous crown.

He had suffered for this, suffered weeks and months of torture at the hand of his father for _daring to fall in love with what he should fear to look on!_ He had been ripped straight from earth’s surface, dragged down into the fiery pits of hell by thousands of burning hands and cast into the darkest, most devoid prison they could make.

His father had killed him over and over, torn his flesh and repaired it, hacked off limbs then replaced them. Every time there was pain he replaced it with relief, making Magnus whole only to tear him down once again; it was the worse form of punishment. He still looked like himself, tawny skin with almond eyes, hair blacker than an abyss, eyes the hue of a cat, but he no longer was the man people recognised.

His father had killed the Magnus Bane of old, _destroyed_ him. He cared for mortals still, always would, but now he cared little for the torture and killing of demons and those of angel and demon blood; he did not mind if they were vampire, warlock or Shadowhunter or if they were demons from the basest levels of hell – they all would meet a horrific end by his hands. This man, this monster, so artfully crafted by his father, took his rightful place on the throne overlooking the kingdom of Edom and smiled, pearly white teeth flashing dangerously at the thought of ruling over the area.

The true king of Edom had arrived.

 

* * *

 

 

His lover had come with him.

Magnus wished he’d known sooner, all those months where he was pleading and begging for his angel to stay safe and away from his fathers influence had been for nothing. His father was not a stupid man; Alexander had been taken almost the same time as he had.

His angel, so pure and innocent to the horrors of the world despite being a Shadowhunter, had suffered similarly to himself in a dark, dank cell hidden in the farthest corner of the Edom prisons. He’d suffered through endless punishments and torture, beatings that went further than skin deep, hideous weapons that no man was meant to feel.

Of course his father had always repaired him afterwards, kept his physical body in peak condition to inflict endless bouts pain, but he had broken his angel mentally. Day after day Alexander had witnessed the vision of everyone he loved dying over and over in a myriad of cruel, vile and violent ways, all somehow brought about by himself.

Everyday Alexander had been forced to watch his family die whilst Asmodeus sat by with knives and claws, carefully digging patterns and lines into his pale, runed skin.

Alexander was still the man he remembered, sweet smiles and all encompassing love, an unwavering loyalty and unparalleled levels of stubbornness and determination. He still believed in justice and crafting the world in a way that meant all could get along equally and fairly, regardless of the blood in their veins, still blushed prettily when Magnus made a romantic or suggestive comment.

He still loved his family wholeheartedly, visited them and spoke to them as often as possible, never leaving them without a kiss and a smile, promising to return soon. Izzy was still his pride and joy in every way, his protective older brother stance never leaving despite all he’d been through and the damage he been caused.

Jace was still the closest non-relative who belonged to his family, they still shared a profound bond of emotions and strength that would never go away.

Magnus was still the love of his life, the only person who he would _ever_ submit to, the one person who Alexander loved above all else.

But his angel had been hurt in ways no one could ever return from and it showed every day and every time they saw each other.

His love was more aggressive in dealing with the guilty and the sinful, he cared little for the screams of demons and people being tortured in the depths of Edom. His blue eyes hardened with anger whenever a demon approach him, whenever anyone who wasn’t his family approach him, and he was quick to unleash the training instilled in him as a child. He tended not to listen when demons came to their court, focused only on their punishments or the people they brought with them.

He was hesitant to leave his family without triple checking everything was safe and okay, always squeezing them tighter than necessary and kissing them sweetly and passionately goodbye when they parted. His grip on their arms would tighten almost unnoticeably but he would stare into their eyes as if for the last time, as if memorising the colour of their eyes or the way in which they moved them.

Izzy was protected almost 24/7 by guards she could neither see nor hear. Demons that slithered, that crawled, that flew, gazing upon her and every move she did to make sure she was safe. They dragged off dangers and tore them to shreds, threatened boys who would do only harm, growled at approaching demons that had no right to be near. Alexander sent them out regardless of his sisters proficiency with weapons and feigned ignorance when she would call and complain about the lack of demons to kill.

Jace would be watched with determination, eyes stony and unmoving as they tried to unpick every little movement, every tiny shift of the face. They had no official bond tying them together anymore, Asmodeus had seen away with that almost instantly, so Alexander would spend hours staring at him, unseen courtesy of Magnus, checking to see if everything was okay and Jace was in no pain.

It was his attitude to Magnus however, that really showed the change his father had forced onto his Shadowhunter. Where once Alexander was out but still hesitant and unsure of their relationship, the angel now felt the need to state his ownership proudly and in any way possible. Wherever Magnus went, Alexander was sure to follow. He sat as close as possible, skin touching skin, and never failed in making his intentions known. His father had done away with most of Alexanders morality, he still blushed and stuttered in the face of Magnus, but the Shadowhunter was unafraid of giving people a show, letting them know who it was that had captured the warlocks heart.

 

* * *

 

 

They’d had a ceremony, a few months after Magnus had claimed the throne, a few months after Alexander had been found in his cell and dragged to the court before being saved by his lover. It officiated Magnus’ status as King, bestowed upon him the robe and the sceptre and tied his blood to the very ground he stood upon; he claimed the land as his and so it was.

It cemented Alexander’s position of consort, give him status and privilege over the demons below him, tied his life force to Magnus’s so that they would never die unless killed together. He had stood proudly facing the demons hissing and scratching at him, spoken his vows with strength and resolve, declared himself their consort and husband of Magnus Bane.

The celebrations, as always in a nation ruled by the deadly sins, lasted for many days and nights. The citizens indulged in sweet wines, sweet foods and pliant bodies, sunk into flesh and tight heat like coming home. The streets had been filled with the smells of rich chocolate, spices electrifying the air, Lavender and Jasmine fog wafting through the city, boiling passions and lust; sweat, sex and cum lined the walls of houses and alleyways, every area being used for convenience and show.

The sound of hearty laughter, of loud boisterous shouting, of sinful and pleasure filled moans covered the air and drifted through the streets like an invitation, calling to all in need of touch and a fulfilling feeling of being full and whole. Skin slapped against skin roughly, harshly, gasps and guttural growls sounded from behind doors or in the openings of alleyways.

Magnus and Alexander had fled to their rooms and refused to come out, finding pleasure in their halls over and over again. They welcomed the moans and screams, encouraged them, as bodies moved together, slick skin sliding sloppily covered in release and sweat. Sex perfumed the air and the people welcomed it, walking by the entrance to the new kings rooms and finding their pleasure outside the door.

They listened to the growls, the mewls and the screams from the inside, listened to the panting breath and whispered names and placed their hands under their clothes, toying with themselves or anyone they had brought with them until release forced itself upon them like a blessing.

Inside the couple couldn’t help the blissed out smiles permanently on their faces.

They were sated, happy, and celebrated.

 

* * *

 

 

Later, when Alexander and Magnus had settled into their roles of the kings of hell, Robert Lightwood entered their hall for a final judgement. He was one of the only Shadowhunters to be sent to Edom rather than heaven, the weight of his actions and his lack of apology for them casting him straight from the golden gates to the depths of red below.

He stood with a sneer on his face and a look of pure contempt in his eye at the lazy way Alexander had perched himself on the lap of his lover, one arms slung over a muscular neck, legs spread widely over his thighs, placing his clothed body on display. When his father began speaking, informing them of why he should be sent back the heaven where he believed himself to belong, Alexander turned his head and began sucking on the skin of his lover, nipping and licking at the tawny skin in an inviting way.

He made his movements deliberately loud, sucking wetly and hotly, leaving behind dark marks and lighting the fire of his lover. Magnus was never one to deny himself pleasure when it was teased in front of him. In full view of Robert Magnus lowered his hand to the waist line Alexander’s trousers, fingers teasing the edge before delving underneath and lowering to his lovers cock and palming it roughly whilst biting at the skin of his ivory neck.

Beneath him, the angel shut his eyes in pleasure and bucked his hips in desperation, eager for release and the touch of his lover. The warlock turned his eye to the father who was glaring at them with pure hatred but refused to stop speaking; his pride got the better of him. He grabbed his loves dick and tugged harder and faster, drawing from his lips sinful moans and breathy gasps of pleasure.

The moved as one, ignorant to the man stood before them, as Alexander grinded up into the hand and down onto the hot and heavy cock of his lover. He craved skin, to feel the heat of his lover first hand, and was determined to get it, he forgot all about his father’s presence as he lost himself to the pleasure his warlock gave him.

But he was too impatient to get what he wanted and so gave himself to touch only, to the calloused hand of his lover that stroked him so perfectly. He panted harder and harder, losing all sensation but the hand around his cock, and his blue eyes went blind as he arched his back and shot his release into the hand of his lover.

Magnus hadn’t come but he never wanted to, not when he could wait and find greater release later on.

Alexander, breathless and in bliss, looking at his father through half lidded eyes before turning his head to look at his husband who raised his cum stained hand in the air, clearly showing the evidence of release to his father, before began to lick the bitter liquid away with a sinful tongue. Alexander moaned languidly at the sight whilst his father shouted in anger and with a wave of his hand, Magnus banished the man to the lowest level of Edom to be dealt with by the worst of his torturers.

For now, he had a pliant angel in his lap prepared to be used in any way he saw fit.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus had been informed by Catarina that his angel had been placed in the Edom castle infirmary two hours after he’d been admitted. They’d sped along the path with Magnus yelling and screaming in anger at the lack of information he’d been given and the delay with which he’d been told.

Alexander was his most precious, untouchable possession in all of Edom and only the most sever of punishments would qualify for this attack.

He burst through the doors in a tirade of fear and anger, blasting the very frames off the wall, and saw his beloved lying unconscious on a bed, skin too pale to be healthy. Wrapped around his head and arms were bandaged soaked with blood and an IV wire was attached to the crook of his elbow, connected to a bag of fluid.

He would survive but would need a couple of weeks to heal, the _iratze’s_ of his past life now unable to help him in the realm of demons. His breath was steady and with it Magnus could feel himself start to breath once more; his angel would be fine and the world could continue turning as it always did.

Magnus sat down heavily, hand instantly entwining with his love’s, and refused to leave, no matter how many times his advisors and friends told him to get some rest. He stayed, perfectly still and preserved for the full two and a half weeks of his darlings induced coma, never once leaving or letting go.

He sat patiently as blue eyes fluttered open hesitantly, blinking harshly at the lights above and began to move around the room before settling on him and lighting up with happiness. He waited whilst Cat and the other medics did multiple checks and magical assessments before getting the all clear and instantly portaling them both to their hall and their bed.

There they sat and talked for hours on end, Magnus explaining the fear of being told of the injuries, of almost losing his love completely to the demons inside his mind, of the loneliness sitting by the bedside, awaiting his lovers return to the Edom realm with held breath and a blank mind.

In turn Alexander told him of the absence of anything during the time of his coma, of the way he could only hear distant muffled voices in the background of the darkness and was unable to move towards them. He told him of the greater demon who had cornered him alone, who pushed him up against the wall and ripped and torn at his skin, who left him for dead with the threat of telling anyone his name.

It was without an ounce of fear that Alexander told his lover who had caused him harm.

In a rage Magnus stood, eager to punish and torment the one who had hurt his love so viscously before a gently and dainty hand stopped him, ushering back to bed with soothing calls and promises of deserving punishments in the morning.

Spend a night he whispered with barely parted lips, spend a night with me before going, I want to feel you, the voice called and the warlock could not resist the siren call of his lover in his needy state.

He stayed the night, holding his love tight to his chest and refusing to let go.

 

* * *

 

 

Azazel walked to the kings chamber with little care or thought.

It was highly likely that the King had called upon him for a promotion of some sort, after all he had invented a myriad of new, vicious and gory weaponry that was bound to make the blood boil and the desire to kill rise.

After he had rid the kingdom of the fake king, the _Nephilim_ siphoning of the demon power for himself and leeching of the half breed who had foolishly claimed the throne and then him, Azazel was sure that Edom would return to a demon run state, where decisions would not be ruled by the impact of mortals and the correct forms of justice. Magnus Bane was already weak king, but his _Nephilim_ made him worse, he was glad to have gotten rid of the spawn, now he could make his way up the ranks. He opened the doors of the throne room proudly, eager to receive the cheering and celebrating of his demon brothers for his dimension saving actions and promotion.

His footsteps faltered the view that he was greeted with.

Magnus slumped on his throne, body low on the seat and spine slightly hunched over. His head was buried in the neck of his lover, black hair flopping away from his face as beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. His legs were spread wide, accommodating between them the grinding hips of a Shadowhunter.

Alexander Lightwood, whom Azazel had presumed dead only moments ago, was perched on Magnus legs, naked expect for the black markings of his people, and riding his cock like a last meal. His head was thrown back against Magnus’ tawny neck, body moving up and down quickly, rising and lowering onto his lovers cock in desperation, craving the pleasure on he could give; his hands were caressing every inch of skin it could reach on Magnus’ body, hungrily feeling there way up his abs and muscular thighs.

Magnus’ hand had settled on the chest of flawless ivory skin, grasp tight as he sucked and licked marks onto the boys neck, moving him faster with the bucking off his hips, forcing him to take his cock deeper, hitting his prostate over and over. From his throat growls and gasps sounded into the hall, every noise screaming with the pleasure he was feeling.

He was mumbling promises into the Shadowhunters ears, telling him of all the sinfully pleasurable and downright dirty things they would be doing later, biting his ear and nibbling at the skin all the while, allowing his breath to send shots of arousal down his spine.

Alexander, facing Azazel and riding his lover with more enthusiasm, eagerly rising up and down, taking every inch perfectly as if made for the very act, was releasing strangled mewls from the back of his throat, whining and begging at the fullness and weight inside of him.

Azazel looked upon the scene with bewilderment, unsure of exactly what was going on. Alexander Lightwood should be dead by now, not riding the King of Edom like a prized whore, especially not when Azazel had warned him off of telling anyone about him and his actions.

Suddenly that promotion seemed far, far away.

Magnus’ cat eyes looked up at his as he neared the throne, regarding him with a certain level of distain and boredom. He did not speak, only continued to let out sinful moans that Azazel couldn’t deny affected him and thrust into the hot cavern of his lovers ass. He grunted in pleasure before sighing loudly, throwing his head back as ecstasy overtook him; his release shooting into Alexander like a dream, marking him from the inside.

Azazel dropped to his knee and lowered his head, if he was put before the King he would at least show respect, maybe Magnus would be sympathetic to him.

“Uncle, don’t be so formal, rise please.”

Azazel was hasty to obey the veiled order, moving swiftly to standing and raising his eyes to look at the king and his whore. “King Magnus and consort.” He greeted instead, knowing fully what would happen if he gave voice to his inner thoughts.

The pair were now dressed and descent in the courtroom. Magnus was wearing his long burgundy coat with a fitted maroon waistcoat and white shirt, completed with tight maroon trousers and black oxfords. His hair, completely destroyed by the fingers of his desperate lover, was now restored, faux hawk situated proudly atop his head with glitter running through the individual hairs; his makeup was back to looking perfect with no smudges.

Collectively Magnus looked like a king of Edom should be, Azazel thought, strong, powerful, put together.

It was a shame, he reflected, that Alexander Lightwood did not.

He had no shoes, only silky socks in a hellish black material that rose to knee level and had silky ribbons tied in a perfect bow at the top with remaining bits hanging down to trail at his feet. He had black shorts on that defined his muscular thighs and left little to the imagination, prompting Azazel’s eyes to drift where they shouldn’t.

His jumper was massively oversized, pooling around his waist because of his lazy position of laying back into Magnus’ chest, and one sleeve hanging off his shoulder. It, like the other items, was black, this time looking slightly fluffier and warmer – evident by the way the Shadowhunter seemed to snuggle in it. Pathetic Azazel thought.

“Do you understand why you’ve been called here?” Magnus barks out, voice harsh and demanding as he stares into the depths of his uncles eyes. Azazel feels himself swallow in trepidation, unsure of how to proceed in a beneficial way.

“Yes your highness.” He eventually resigns himself to the fact that Magnus _knows,_ knows he threatened his consort, knows he tried to have him killed, knows he tried to start a rebellion against the crown by trying to take one out.

“Tell me why.” He orders and Azazel allows himself a moment of confusion at such a question before beginning to answer.

“With all due respect your highness, Alexander Lightwood does not belong in this realm. He, as we are all aware is a Shadowhunter and Shadowhunters are…” He trails off when he sees Magnus dip his head and begin to mouth at the revealed skin of his lover, nipping at the ivory skin devoid of the cover of a jumper.

Magnus never takes his eyes off him, nor does he stop him from talking, so Azazel has little choice but to continue on whilst his nephew begin to mouth at the skin of his husband. “They kill demons, it is…unfair to…have him rule over us.” Magnus has begun to get more aggressive in his actions, now pawing at the covered up chest and biting down harshly on the porcelain skin, Alexander simply begins to grind down slightly, a burning blush of embarrassment riding high on his cheeks.

All movement stops and Azazel realises he has stopped telling his reason, so hastily continues, eager to garner any sympathy he can from the two kings.

“He is unsuitable in many ways…and he certainly isn’t worthy enough of you..” Azazel is unable to continue before a ball of electric blue shoots into his chest, propelling him into the far wall of the chamber, dislodging multiple carvings and stonework.

Magnus is on him like a shot, digging his bony knee deep into the well of his throat and snarling down at him whilst his lover sits demurely in the throne, avid blue eyes watching them. “How dare you say that how dare you say he is not worthy!” The warlock roars, dragging Azazel’s body up the wall so that they are now eye to eye.

Any hope the greater demon had of surviving this encounter had diminished almost instantly.

“You tried to kill my mate, you tried to split us apart and take power for yourself. I will not have it, I do not care who you are!” He bellows, sharp nails dig into his skin and the demon begins to feel paths of blood making their way down his chest.

“You will never come here again, Edom no longer welcomes you.” Magnus moved his hand like a snake, creating a portal of black and blood red before kicking the demon into its depths, banishing him to the isolated and rocky plains of Duduael, from where he would never return. Over and over Azazel would feel the pain of birds pecking at his insides, feel them being torn apart and ripped from his body.

Magnus turned back to his lover, delighted smile taking residence on his face at the dopily blissed out look of love reflected in his blue eyes, and moved closer, taking his seat on the throne and situating Alexander back in his lap. The Shadowhunter curled into his lap sleepily, nuzzling into the junction of his neck and Magnus possessively placed his hands around the lithe waist, pulling him closer.

The Kings of Edom were in their rightful place.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, hope you enjoyed the story, please dont hesitate in telling me what you liked, didn't and any other ideas you may have.


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